


eat your fill, leave all the rest

by starstrung



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Aftercare, F/M, M/M, caduceus does the clean-up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 02:24:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17737229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstrung/pseuds/starstrung
Summary: Theirs is a hungry patron, and Avantika, Fjord thinks, is all of that hunger in one mortal person — or as mortal as you can be, when a creature such as Uk’otoa has given you its blessing.





	eat your fill, leave all the rest

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for [this prompt](https://criticalkink.dreamwidth.org/3194.html?thread=851322#cmt851322).

Fjord has lost track of how many times he has found himself in Avantika’s cabin, like this. He never remembers how it starts, afterwards. Whether she beckoned for him to follow her, or whether he followed her anyway, just to see what she would do. Whether he saw her giving him a considering look, shameless and commanding, and that was enough to impel him to come to her in the night, when his friends would not notice if he slipped away. 

He always remembers this part, though. Flat on his back, Avantika sitting astride him, riding him until his eyes roll back in his head, and he feels that familiar abyss at his back, swallowing him up. A bright leviathan’s eye watching him in the dark. 

She keeps his eyes on her. Strikes him, if he dares look away. A hand tangled in his hair so that he has no choice but to watch her take her pleasure from him. 

Theirs is a hungry patron, and Avantika, Fjord thinks, is all of that hunger in one mortal person — or as mortal as you can be, when a creature such as Uk’otoa has given you its blessing. Fjord hasn’t had any dreams in a while, but here, with Avantika watching him with that hungry fire, claiming him, making him _hers_ — it feels similar to the dreams he’s had. Like being dropped into a chasm. Drowning. 

_Consume_ , the voice says, when he strains his ears to listen. 

He doesn’t make a sound. Sometimes it’s because her hand squeezes around his throat — lazily, almost, like she’s more interested in watching the bruises bloom across green skin than watching him choke, gasp for air, his limbs all spasming uncontrollably, fruitlessly. 

Sometimes it’s because his mouth is just kept busy with other things, and that’s fine too. He likes when she lets him do that for her. Strangely, these are some of the few lucid moments he has. She smiles at him, afterwards, wipes a thumb across the slick mess of his lips, and says, “I think I’ll keep you after all.” 

And then later, when she is done with him: he makes himself untangle their limbs and get up. She sleeps soundly, the comfortable rest of someone who knows that there is no threat to be concerned about. He finds his clothes and steps into them feeling like his legs are tied with lead weights, trying not to stumble in the dark. 

This time, she had him undress while she watched, dispassionately, so his clothes aren’t strewn about like they are sometimes. Once, he found his pants dangling from the balcony railing, one stray breeze away from falling into the ocean. That would’ve been an undignified journey back to his quarters, to say the least. 

Fjord steps out onto the deck. It’s a cold night, but he doesn’t feel it. Struck with a strange impulse, he goes to the stern and leans over, watches the dark waters rolling beneath the ship as it sails on the strong easterly wind. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there when Caduceus finds him. 

”Hey, Fjord,” Caduceus says, slow and deep. “Hey buddy. You doing okay? You look a little… not good. You wanna step away from the railing?” 

It takes a long time for the words to register. When they do, Fjord steps away and looks up at Caduceus, confused for a second by how Caduceus has his hands spread before him, in a placating gesture. 

”What?” Fjord says, blinking. Shit, but he meant to make himself a little more presentable before trying to sneak into the cabin. The sea spray has soaked through his shirt until it’s sticking to him translucently under the dim lantern light — Caduceus can probably see every single bruise that Avantika just pressed into his throat. 

He tries to turn away from the light a little. “Yeah. Uh, it’s late, right? What are you still doing up?” Fjord says. 

Caduceus’s eyes search him, but they don’t linger on his open collar. Instead, he peers with concern into Fjord’s eyes. Fjord never noticed how long Caduceus’s eyelashes are — a paler pink than the rest of his hair. He finds himself smiling, a little, at discovering this. For some reason, this makes the concern in Caduceus’s eyes sharpen. 

“Just thought I’d go out and smell the wind, try to get a sense of where it came from,” Caduceus says carefully. Fjord never knows if Caduceus is being purposefully cryptic, or accidentally enigmatic, when he says shit like that. Maybe both. 

Fjord nods, like it makes sense. “Makes sense,” he lies. 

”You really don’t look so good, Fjord, if you don’t mind me saying.” Caduceus exhales deeply, as if agitated, and steam curls out of his nostrils. Fjord wonders if he means the bruises, but somehow he doesn’t think so. “You better get inside,” Caduceus tells him. 

Fjord’s legs are numb from cold, and he doesn’t realize it until he starts walking and stumbles on the slippery deck. Caduceus steadies him immediately, like he was prepared for it, a big hand curled under Fjord’s bicep to keep him from falling. 

”I’m sorry,” Fjord says, suddenly embarrassed. 

”It’s okay,” Caduceus says, gentle. He doesn’t let go of Fjord, continues to lead him back to the quarters that they’re sharing. 

”Just got real cold I guess,” Fjord says. 

”Or you just lost track of where you were going,” Caduceus says, and his voice is so flat that Fjord thinks he means it as a joke, except that he doesn’t laugh. 

By the time they make it back to the cabin, Fjord is shivering violently. He doesn’t know how long he spent in that cold sea air, the mist of the waves hitting him until salt lay heavy on his tongue. 

”Do you need help getting out of those?” Caduceus says, and he means Fjord’s wet clothes. 

”I—” Fjord begins, and then realizes he doesn’t know. He tries one of the buttons on his shirt, and his fingers slip ineffectually. “Guess that’s a no,” he says, tries to laugh. It comes out too shaky. 

”I’ve got you,” Caduceus says, and steps close to Fjord until Fjord can feel all the heat radiating off of him. As he undresses Fjord, Caduceus doesn’t touch him more than necessary, and Fjord is too busy wondering whether or not he’s disappointed by this to notice that Caduceus is speaking to him. 

”Wait, say that again?” Fjord says. 

Caduceus strips away Fjord’s wet shirt, begins on the laces of his boots. “I said, I’m always here for you to come to afterwards. It’s not good for you to be alone when you’re going through this.” 

Fjord looks down at him blankly. “Going through what?” 

Caduceus pauses. Even kneeling as he is, he is still eye level with Fjord’s chest. “You’re feeling a little adrift, am I right? Like she pulled you open, and didn’t quite put you back together?” 

Fjord scoffs a little. “I don’t know about all that, Caduceus. I’m fine, really. Just a bit worn out, is all.” 

”Uh huh,” Caduceus says, sounding unconvinced. He finishes unlacing Fjord’s boots and gets to his feet. For a moment, he stands there with his head tilted to one side, looking at Fjord with a sort of unhurried patience, until Fjord finds himself leaning forward on the soles of his feet in anticipation. 

Caduceus smiles a little, a knowing smile. He reaches forward, slowly enough that Fjord has plenty of time to draw back. He’s still not expecting it when Caduceus puts a gentle hand to the side of Fjord’s throat, where the bruises are most livid. 

”Oh,” Fjord says, and he cannot explain why his entire body curls into the touch, why a shudder goes up his back until he is bowing his head forward. 

”Easy, easy,” Caduceus says, his voice rumbling low, steadying him with his free hand at his shoulder. “This is just going to tickle a little.” 

Caduceus’s healing feels different from Jester’s. Jester’s feels like ice pressed to a wound, sensation bouncing up nerves and leaving behind a fresh numbness that slowly fades away. Caduceus’s feels warmer — teeming and vibrant, like suddenly a million tiny winged things are beating underneath his skin. “Tickle” is putting it fucking mildly. 

When Caduceus is done, the soreness at Fjord’s throat is gone. Somehow, it leaves behind an empty feeling, like something in him has been horribly misplaced. ”What’s happening to me,” Fjord says, dully. 

”You just need some help getting back on your feet, that’s all,” Caduceus says, and he is so unfazed by all of this that Fjord finds himself reassured. “Now, think you can step out of the rest of your clothes for me?” 

Fjord’s warmed a little already — either from being indoors or from Caduceus’s healing spell, or both. He manages to kick off his boots and step clumsily out of his pants. 

”Good,” Caduceus says, eyes soft. Fjord feels incandescently relieved by this. 

”Let’s get you comfortable,” Caduceus says. He has Fjord sit on his bunk, makes him put on clean, warm clothes. Fjord watches as Caduceus produces a clothesline seemingly out of nowhere, and expertly hangs up the wet clothes to dry. 

”There. Now they’ll be ready to wear in the morning. Might smell a little funny though,” Caduceus says. “Too bad I can’t make you some tea. That would do you good. I’ve got just the brew.” 

”Don’t think I need dead person tea. No offense,” Fjord says. 

”None taken,” Caduceus says easily. “What _is_ it you need then?” 

”I need—” Fjord says, until shame stop the words from coming. “Could you just, uh, touch me again.” 

Caduceus’s eyes crinkle a little. “‘Course,” he says, and he pulls Fjord into a hug. 

Caduceus gives good hugs. His long arms wrap fully around Fjord, until Fjord’s nose is pressed into the soft pink fur at the base of Caduceus’s neck. He can feel Caduceus’s breathing, steady and strong, the sharp earth smell of him. It’s good. 

”Now, think you can get to sleep?” Caduceus says, pulling away. 

Fjord lets out a shaky breath. He feels considerably less unmoored than he did a few minutes ago. “I think so.” 

”There you go. You’ll be just fine.” Caduceus chuckles a little, a deep rumble of a laugh. He runs a thumb across Fjord’s cheek. It’s a mirror of the gesture Avantika had made only an hour or so before. Fjord wonders what Caduceus would do if he took his fingers into his mouth, like he had done for Avantika. He shivers. 

Caduceus draws his hand away, expression going shuttered for a bit, and then just a little sad. “You know she’s going to drag us all down into the depths if you let her, right?” he says. He doesn’t have to specify that he means Avantika. 

”I don’t trust her, if that’s what you’re saying,” Fjord tells him. 

”You sure about that?” Caduceus says. Fjord does not have an answer to that, and Caduceus doesn’t look like he much expected one. He gets up from Fjord’s bunk. “Good night, Fjord,” he says, and smiles. He blows out the solitary lantern in their room, and gets into his own bunk. 

”Thank you, Caduceus,” Fjord says, in the dark. He’s weary enough that his eyes are barely keeping open as it is, but he knows he’s got to say this, because it matters. “You’re always taking care of us. And this was — you didn’t have to do this.” 

”I think I did, though. At least, it wasn’t like I didn’t want to,” Caduceus says. “And, no offense, but you’re all pretty terrible at taking care of yourselves.” 

Fjord can’t argue that. “None taken,” he says. He lays back beneath the blankets, and tries not to think of leviathans under the sea.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/star_strung).


End file.
